Hyunjung holds Sojung’s jaw like she’s holding a petal, similar to the ones starting to fall from the cherry blossom tree at the other side of the street, announcing a new cicle— a new beginning. Each time Sojung flinches under her touch, another petal falls. And they keep on falling, falling, falling— they’re all over the place, painting the grass pink, and maybe some of them find their way into Hyunjung’s soul, too. There’s no way back now. 

No seconds, no morning-afters. A simple rule I live by. We both liked it better after midnight but what happens w